Taken for a Ride
by bugsfic
Summary: On a Caprica without the Cylon attacks, the Secretary of Education needs a cab.


_This story was written as a series of drabbles (short stories that must be in denominations of 100 words up to 300 words.). Originally published in 2012 on Livejournal_

* * *

 **1\. Taken for a Ride:**

"I should have been there two hours ago," Laura fussed at her driver from the backseat.

"Better late than never," the cabbie rumbled comfortably. "Pretty good considering it's been a thousand click drive."

A dig from a former pilot to a woman who refused to fly to the Colonial education conference at the remote Argos resort.

"Minutes away, ma'am," he reassured her, turning his cab deftly through the last hairpin mountain turns.

She was ma'am again, Laura noticed. She buttoned her dusty blazer and gathered her briefcase close.

She had to get her own jab in. "If you'd had networked satellite navigation in this cab, we would have been here in the morning."

He grumbled.

"Yes?" she pushed.

"Breakdown didn't help," he reminded her.

An evening under the stars, lying in a sun-baked wheat field, interrupted by their 'rescue'. She straightened her blazer again. "Network radio connection would have gotten a tow truck faster."

He chuckled. "Here we are," he announced.

After her bags were whisked away by the bellhop, the driver—"Call me Bill"—refused her outrageous tip and carefully counted out her exact change.

"Thank you," Laura said stiffly.

He touched his cap —its azure color mirrored his deep eyes— and slipped back into his cab.

She watched him pull away and turn the corner, gone from her life. Only then did she enter the blissfully cool and dim conference hall.

Richard rushed to her. "Laura, where the hell have you been? I've been calling for hours."

"Better late than never," she echoed.

He picked a fragrant sage stem from her tangled hair. "Did you walk?"

Ignoring him, she stuffed her change into her wallet, discovering a business card among the bills.

Call me for another ride, it read under the number.

 **2\. Pickup:**

The fare had kept Bill waiting ten minutes outside her apartment. That damn old crone dispatcher, who hissed 'dirt eater' thinking he was as deaf as she was, had sent him on another waste of time call.

He finally started his engine, ready to leave.

"I'm coming! I'm coming!"

His view through the window; a woman clattered down the building's stoop; a sleek set of long legs, balanced precariously on high heels; a button straining, barely holding her blouse closed across her heaving breasts; a blizzard of red curls as she dragged her bags to the trunk.

Bill jumped out, cursing Saul Tigh's brutal assessment: Bill, you gotta get laid. Saul was right; here he was leering at a female fare.

Settling into retirement hadn't included a personal life yet. As soon as his shift was up, he'd look for a pickup. Not at one of Saul's strip clubs, but a tasteful wine bar...

The woman let him load the suitcases while she slid into the backseat. When he got behind the wheel and checked the rearview mirror, he was in for a shock. She wasn't one of the hot young executive women of Caprica City. She was a compatible age, but damn, those legs...

He dropped his meter's flag. "Where to, ma'am?"

"Argos, please."

He pulled off the curb. "What's your airline?"

"No, to Argos."

He checked the mirror again. She was fiddling with her glasses, opening her briefcase as if settling in for a long ride.

"Ma'am, that's a thousand click drive."

"Yes, is there a problem?" She glanced up, impatient, and he was pinned by steely pale green eyes, magnified through the lenses.

"I guess I wasn't doin' anything tonight anyway," he agreed.

 **3\. Click Ten:**

"I'm not comfortable flying...I know I have in the past."

Bill's fare shifted in the seat, obviously impatient with her caller.

"I'll be there by midnight—"

Her gaze shot up to meet his in the mirror. He nodded.

"I'll see you in the morning."

A quick flick of her tongue as she listened to the response. She ducked her head. "I don't think that's a good idea," she murmured.

Bill drove onto the freeway, speeding up.

"No, we talked about that." There was a finality in her voice and he silently rejoiced how she was obviously shutting down some prick.

"I'll see you at the breakfast meeting." She disconnected the call without saying goodbye.

"Eleven," Bill said.

"Excuse me?"

"I'll have you there before eleven."

"No need to speed," she said nervously, watching him pass the other cars.

"All cabbies speed. We're all old Viper pilots." He sighed to himself. Gods, he hadn't pulled the I'm a jock line on a woman in thirty years. He wondered if there were any wine bars up in Argos.

Disinterested, she said, "Really," and sorted through her briefcase.

"Mind if I play music?"

"Not at all," she said gratefully. Probably thrilled he wasn't a chatty driver.

He chose something slow and melodious.

"Just don't do any bombing runs on the way," she warned, her tone warm.

He grinned but she was back to her paperwork. The clinks rolled by quietly.

"I like this CD. Who is it?"

"Some Gemenese singer."

He held up the case. She leaned forward, squinting at it. Her light floral scent enveloped him. Her gaze moved, reading his ID card on the dashboard.

"Commander Adama?"

He winced at the shock and dismay in her voice.

 **4\. Click One Hundred:**

"William Adama?"

"That's me." The driver hunched his wide shoulders.

"You commanded the battlestar Galactica."

"Yep."

"And now you're driving a cab."

"Yep," he repeated.

"How—" Laura pulled herself up short. In her shock, she hadn't seen that she was humiliating him. "I'm sorry. I'm Laura Roslin."

"Secretary of Education," he said, checking his mirrors to change lanes.

"I was going to meet you, but when the decommissioning was cancelled at the last minute, it didn't happen," Laura recalled.

"Yeah, the old girl went out with a whimper, not a bang," he said in his raspy voice, still not looking at her.

Whatever had happened with the Galactica, Laura knew it wasn't the official press release from the Fleet Admiralty: the vessel broke down while patrolling near the Armistice Station and had to be towed into the scrapyard. No ceremonies were ever conducted, and Laura's carefully constructed plans for an educational center aboard were tossed. Even Richard wouldn't give her any information, and this old soldier sure didn't look like he'd give an inch either.

Suddenly, his intense blue gaze met hers in the rearview mirror.

"How were you going to get to the Galactica if you don't want to fly?"

She sank back into the seat and folded her arms. Looking out the window, she replied coldly, "It's been a recent development."

Under her bicep, her incision at the lumpectomy site throbbed hotly. There had been no way she was going to pass through airport security and have her drain discovered— end up on the evening news.

"You'll fly again," Adama said confidently.

She stared at her budget reports through blurring vision. He couldn't know, yet somehow he'd said just the right thing.

 **5\. Slowdown:**

"I'm driving a cab became I want to, not because I have to," Adama explained stiffly. "I've got great veteran benefits."

"I'm sure," Laura said, sounding unconvinced.

He felt like he had to say more. "Only lasted two weeks into retirement before I looked for a job."

"You could have found something more— A lobbyist, or a security advisor?"

He laughed. "I actually applied for a couple of those positions. The interviews were enough to show me it wasn't the role for me." He patted the steering wheel. "This is just fine."

She furrowed her brow in confusion. Then she noticed the freeway traffic slowing.

"An accident?" she guessed.

They approached a large sign that read: Construction ahead. Delay three hours

"Oh no!" she said.

"Damn," grumbled Adama.

"Your nav system didn't warn you?"

"Don't have one."

"Don't have— How do you know where you're going?"

He waved a crumpled paper. "I read a map." Smoothing it on the seat, he announced, "There're backroads. I'll get you there in time."

"Why don't you have a nav system?" she asked. "Aren't they standard issue in a cab?"

"I know this planet like the back of my hand," he said as he exited the freeway.

"I'd feel more comfortable if you had a nav system," Laura said relentlessly.

"Don't trust them. Dispatcher radios me with rides. Now we're out of radio range," he said.

"So we're flying blind." Laura grabbed the seat to pull herself forward.

Adama kept his gaze on the narrow country road winding through fields, yellowed in the late summer sun.

"Trust this old pilot," he rumbled, but when he tossed the map onto the floorboards, she couldn't squelch her growing concern.

 **6\. Pit Stop:**

Laura checked her post-lumpectomy drain in the gas station bathroom, cleaning it as well as she could. With shaking hands, she applied a fresh bandage. She was light-headed with hunger, but every time she thought about eating, her stomach pitched. The chemotherapy-related nausea killed her appetite.

She returned to the cab and found Adama chomping on a sickeningly fragrant sandwich with fried peppers oozing out of the sides.

She went pale.

He wiped his mouth. "Were you going to get something?"

"No, thanks," she said faintly, dropping into the stifling hot backseat.

"You sure? Water at least."

"Water would be good."

Before going back into the station, Adama started the engine for the air-conditioning, and threw away the remains of his lunch.

When he returned, he handed Laura an icy cold bottle. "You don't look well," he said.

She tried to stifle his concern with an arched eyebrow but he just set his jaw.

"It's the heat," she said.

He turned the A/C dial higher and pulled back onto the country highway. "We'll be in the mountains in a couple hours. It'll be cool up there."

She leaned back and closed her eyes. "Sounds nice," she murmured.

The afternoon sun burned through the windows, making Laura even more ill.

"Ma'am... Ms. Roslin." Adama slowed the cab. "I think we should go back to the station and call for medical assistance."

She brushed her hair from her face. "No, I'm fine."

"At least you need to eat," he said. "I've got some energy bars—"

"Commander, do you still adhere to your Colonial Oath?" she asked.

"Of course," he responded, sitting up straight.

She fumbled with her briefcase. "Then I'll smoke this weed first."

The tires squealed as Adama slammed on the brakes.

 **7\. Break Down:**

Bill peered up and down the country lane where he'd parked his cab under a tree. "Okay, it's clear."

Laura hunkered down behind the open cab door. "I should think so," she drawled, flicking her lighter. "You drove five clicks off the highway."

"At least I know why you didn't want to go on a flight," he said indignantly. "Carrying dope."

"Yeah," she said, wincing as she shifted on the seat.

"This is why I didn't take one of those private security jobs, by the way."

She gave a rough chuckle. "Surely in your decades of military service, you had to look the other way a time or two."

He frowned.

She inhaled deeply from the hand-rolled cigarette before speaking. "I'm not some stoner, Commander. It's medically prescribed for a reaction I'm having to some routine treatment. I'd just prefer the information not be in the press."

"I'm not a commander anymore," he grumbled.

She peered up at him through the smoke haze. "You act like one."

He jerked his cap low and tight on his brow, scanning the surrounding hay fields.

"I wouldn't have you pegged for a narc. Not the stories I've heard about Viper pilots."

"I'm not a narc," he protested.

She offered the cigarette and he turned away. "Gotta drive," he mumbled.

She giggled and it was such a light, joyful sound, unexpected tears came to his eyes.

She unwrapped the energy bar. "This is delicious," she moaned. "I'll say that for weed. Makes everything taste great."

Bill got behind the wheel. "Let me cool the car off."

But when he pushed the starter, nothing happened. "Son of a bitch," he growled.

"One of those days," sighed Laura, carefully grinding out her smoke.

 **8\. Stalled:**

Laura decided she still had a buzz on. That explained her light head.

Adama was under the hood of his cab, attempting repairs. He'd shed his blue denim shirt down to a pair of military undershirts. His thick arms were coated with grease and sweat; he grunted as he tried to perform some adjustment, from what she could gather.

"Can I help?" she offered, twisting his cap that he'd given her to hold.

He only gave another growl. "Not...Coming...Loose..."

She tried to peer under the hood, but his broad shoulders were filling the space.

"Mr...Commander...I really think—"

He popped out, his face red and frustrated, wielding a large spanner. "Yeah, we're screwed."

Laura looked down the country lane. "Not a single car's come by."

"Nope."

"We could walk back to the highway," she suggested.

He looked her over. "You can't make it that far in those shoes and I won't leave you alone."

Hands on her hips, she raised her chin. "I think I can sit in this car for a half an hour while you go for help."

He wiped the grease and sweat off his bare skin with a rag. "No, we'll wait together." He had a definite tone that infuriated her at the same time as it made her feel something new and different... Protected.

"The farmer will come by at some point," Adama shielded his eyes to scan the haystacks.

"It's cooling down," Laura said, gripping her arms.

Adama started rooting in the trunk. "We'll be good through the night. If you've got more of that stuff, I've got some MRE's." He peeked under his arm at her.

Leaning on the cab, she smiled. "Only if you'll join me."

 **9\. Twilight:**

"Sorry for getting us in this mess," Bill said as he cleared away their empty ration pouches.

Laura rearranged herself on the nest he'd made by pulling down a haystack and spreading a tarp. "What are you talking about?" she asked lazily, puffing on her cigarette.

"Shouldn't have gone off the main freeway."

"You should have had a network radio," she clarified.

He harrumphed.

She lay back, cradling her head in her arm and slowly drew in smoke. "Get comfortable."

He took the spot beside her, careful to keep distance between their bodies. "Thank you."

"No, thank you for sharing your freeze-dried rations," she said, humor in her voice. "Who knew they came in Tauron Spicy Noodle flavor?"

"I hope they settle in your stomach," he said, and instantly winced. Smooth.

He dared to glance over at her. She was staring up at the sky. The deep blue twilight and its sprinkling of stars reflected in her mirror-gray eyes. A fine-chained necklace lay in her pale throat's valley, slightly askew. He resisted the urge to straighten it.

"Here." She handed him the butt without looking.

He inhaled, tasting her saliva on the paper. The weed's pungent odor mingled with the newly mowed hay and clean dust's smells. His senses were so alive after years in space. Everything felt so clear and bright suddenly.

He handed the cigarette back. "Nice," Laura murmured and he wondered what she meant.

She rubbed her arms.

"Cold?" he asked.

"Bit."

He cleared his throat. "I guess we can use body heat—"

She snuggled close, molding to him and laying her head on his shoulder. "Do you mind," she asked pointlessly. "My head's so heavy."

Bill was suddenly acutely reminded of how long it had been— "Oh boy," he breathed.

 **10\. Rescue:**

Laura placed her hand over Adama's heart, thudding steadily through his undershirts. "Do you miss it, Commander?"

"Bill," he rasped. "Miss what?"

"Space. Your ship."

He stared up at the bright stars, so close in the clear country air. "Yes."

"Be honest, Com—Bill. What happened?" pressed Laura. "With Galactica?"

"Maybe she didn't want to be a museum."

Laura probed further. "Perhaps she preferred going out with a bang?"

His grin glowed in the dark. "She's in a better place."

Laura settled her head back on his strong shoulder. He wasn't going to give her any answers. She understood; she had her own secrets.

She wouldn't tell he may just have saved her life. Commander William Adama had demanded that all civilians coming aboard his vessel must meet the same requirements of his crew; a full physical.

Refusing would have demanded explanations to Richard. Surprisingly, the test results had been a relief after all her years of fear.

Her hand made another slow circle over Bill's heart and she draped one chilled leg over his; he was warm as a pot-bellied stove. Her thigh encountered a sign that he wasn't not as unaffected as his steady breathing would suggest.

She moved her leg purposefully, caressing him. She'd been putting Richard off for weeks, not wanting him to know about the cancer, but this man... A quick, intense frak in the dark, clothes on, would be just what she needed right now. She would be alive for a few minutes. Her arousal, pulsing in her breast painfully, would turn her disease into pleasure.

If only this somber man would cooperate...

His big hand ghosted up her thigh and under her skirt. His lips hovered over hers in the blackness—

Headlights lit up the night.

 **11\. Roadblock:**

"What are the odds I'd find my old commander on a service call?" said the cheerful man driving the tow truck.

"Must have been the Fates," Laura said dryly.

"Tyrol, what the hell are you doing out here?" asked Bill. Before the big man could answer, he told Laura, "This was my deck chief on Galactica."

"Got a call from a cowhand rounding up doggies on the ridge. He saw a car with its hood up, but didn't have time to check it himself."

"The Fates indeed," Laura grumbled to herself. She'd thought her fortunes may have been changing in the past few months, but those ladies were laughing now.

Bill lay his arm across the back of the tow truck's bench seat so Laura could sit close to him, giving the driver room to shift. "No, Chief, why aren't you on another vessel?"

Chief's wide grin became fixed. "Just couldn't see serving another mistress after the best, sir."

"So say we all," rumbled Bill.

Laura looked up and Bill smiled down at her.

"Looked like the two of you were making the best of the situation," Chief said wickedly, his smile bright again.

Bill started to open his mouth, then closed it tightly, his cheeks flushing. Suddenly, Laura realized this was a man of honor, and feeling up a fare in a hayfield was not honorable to him.

She leaned closer to Bill. "We were taking the cab for a country drive—"

Bill looked astonished. She sensed he was not a good liar.

"A cab..." Tyrol's smile went away.

"Couldn't see my golden years playing golf," explained Bill.

"Going to see where the road takes you," Laura piped up, and Bill's arm slipped off the seat to squeeze her.

 **12\. Home on the Range:**

Bill watched Chief work on the cab's starter.

"It's a dud," pronounced Tyrol.

Bill growled in the back of his throat. That damn dispatcher...

"Good to see Sharon again," he said. "Surprised she mustered out too, though."

"She wants a baby," Tyrol said with no joy in his voice.

Bill tried to cheer him up. "Fun to work at it."

Tyrol shook his head. "No luck yet."

Ready, available sex was wasted on the young, Bill decided. He sighed. "My son's left the service too."

"Thank you for making tea," Laura said as she came out of the Tyrols' bathroom after freshening up.

The younger woman smiled and offered the steaming mug. "How long have you known the Old Man?" she asked, unabashedly curious.

"It hasn't been long." Laura blew on the hot tea.

"He's a wonderful man," Sharon assured her. "He's been like a father to Galen and me."

Laura frantically wondered if Bill had children. He must not have a wife, or these two would probably have been shocked that he'd been rolling in a hayfield with another woman.

She took a deep drink of tea, calming her nerves. She wasn't looking for anything long-term. Caught up in the moment, she'd gone for a ride. Now the engine was idling—

Bill came through the door with Tyrol and she stared at him as though he was a stranger again.

Sharon said brightly, "I'll change the sheets on the guest bed!"

Bill waited, hands clasped at his waist. Laura smiled tightly.

"My meeting—"

"Thanks, Sharon, but the starter's fixed and we're ready to go," Bill said flatly.

"Ready to go," echoed Laura and Bill's face went as blank as it had been in the rearview mirror.

 **13\. Wine with That?**

Laura dragged into her hotel room. Another long day of conference meetings had finally ended. The first day, she'd simply removed her clothes, changed her dressing and fallen into bed, only the wake-up call bringing her out of the deep slumber.

Today, despite her physical exhaustion, her mind would not rest. Between meetings, she'd looked at the cabbie's card more than once. She could barely remain alert for necessary conversations, but kept remembering that drive to Argos. It seemed like a sun-dappled, sage-scented dream now, large hands on her body with a soundtrack of husky promises...

Sitting on the bed, she looked at the card again. She started to dial her cellphone— Before it could ring, she disconnected in a fluster.

She hurried from her room. She wanted some fresh air and dinner to settle her flipping stomach.

She found a small wine bar serving dinner. Just what she needed with her tentative appetite. Waiting for the hostess, she glanced around— a familiar man caught her eye. The Fates were back on her side, it appeared.

Bill grinned at the sight of her. Laura approached his table, smiling in return...

The attractive woman seated with him looked up in confusion.

 **14\. First Dates:**

A phone call to Saul Tigh with only the sparsest of details had still led to a blunt question: "Did you frak her?"

"Dammit, Saul, she's not that sort of woman."

"Okay, drive home and I'll set you up."

"I thought I'd see if I could catch a fare back."

"Sure," Saul said, not fooled for a minute. "Listen—" His friend had pulled up his phone's directory. "There's a hot Marine up there; met her during muster-out..."

"I don't want any of your dates—"

"What are you sayin'?"

"Nothing," Bill had grumbled.

"I just got her number!" Saul insisted.

Across the table, Bill quickly smiled at Erin Mathias and ordered a drink from the hovering waiter.

Bill buried his nose in the menu. It had literally been years since he'd been on a date. Now he was confronted by this former colleague with her frank gaze and athletic frame discreetly revealed by her sundress.

For some reason, he hadn't felt this unsure with Laura Roslin.

A dropped tray made the former Marine's head snap around.

"Hard to let things go," said Bill.

"Yes. It's even harder when your ship was shot down," she said levelly.

Bill nodded. Two great battlestars, Galactica and Pegasus, lost in battle. At least his had limped to dock, but the Mathias' had been nuked by a Cylon basestar. The sergeant had been leading an assault on the Armistice Station while the Pegasus' captain had gone down with her ship. Colonial Forces had held back a Cylon invasion, using urgent intelligence to spring their own surprise attack at the remote outpost.

And now they couldn't even speak of it. What would two old soldiers make small talk about?

Then a familiar sweep of red hair caught his eye, and Bill couldn't help but smile in relief.

 **15\. Three's Company:**

"How wonderful that Bill was able to get together with a friend while in Argos," Laura purred as she accepted a glass of wine from the waiter.

Bill choked on his own wine.

"Actually, Bill and I just met," said Erin.

Bill shot Laura a nervous smile. "She's a friend of a friend."

"He called yesterday and suggested we get together," Erin said helpfully.

Laura turned her laser gaze on Bill. He gulped his drink.

"It's nice for us old soldiers to chew over war stories," the ex-Marine added.

Laura's shoulders slumped slightly. "You two served together?"

"No," Bill said quickly. "I never would date a fellow crewmember—" Date, he shouldn't have said date. They were just having a glass of wine; that wasn't a date necessarily.

Both women raised their eyebrows at him.

"I mean, once I was in a command position," he grumbled.

"Yes, I've heard about those Viper pilots," Laura said.

Erin grinned. "And it's all true."

Bill didn't know what was going on, but whatever it was, it wasn't going well.

"How is the conference?" he asked Laura.

"Tiring," she admitted.

"You shouldn't work so hard," he chided her.

"So how do the two of you know each other?" asked Erin.

Both heads snapped around to stare back at her.

"Uh—" started Laura.

"I gave Laura a ride to Argos in my cab," Bill said flatly.

"As an interview for a private driver," Laura said and he openly stared at her as if she'd gone mad. She nodded to herself. "I'll be needing a driver—"

She stood. "But I should go, and leave you two to get to know each other better."

Bill watched Laura leave.

"You looked worried; why don't you go?" said Erin.

He smiled back at her. "I don't switch boats in mid-stream."

 **16\. Late Night Stroll:**

Bill and Erin walked the few blocks from the wine bar to her apartment.

He stood on the sidewalk while she opened her building's door. "It was nice meeting you," he said. "I'll call you—"

She cut him off with a knowing smile. "That battle taught me that timing is everything. Timing put me on Armistice Station instead of the Pegasus when the nuke hit. Doesn't seem to be on my side today."

Grateful, Bill stepped up on the stoop and gave her a goodbye kiss.

The evening was mountain-air cool. Turning up his collar, he wandered, finding himself before the large resort where Laura Roslin was staying. He looked up at the high towers with their scattered lights.

Shoving his cold hands in his pockets, he kept walking. He lit a rare cigarette while waiting for the street light. He was a damn fool. He'd just treated a very fine woman shabbily. He deserved just what he was about to get; another night on the narrow bed of the hostel.

But when the light changed, he turned his back on it and headed down the alley behind the resort's main building.

The scent of his cigarette smoke turned pungent. He looked around, and spotted a familiar female form huddled in a dim stairwell, taking a toke.

Tossing aside his own cigarette, he strode to her. "You know, I'm beginning to doubt this whole nausea story. What the hell are you doing?"

She peered at him belligerently with red-rimmed eyes. "Room's damn smoke alarm can't be shut off."

"For gods' sake, you're the frakking Secretary of Education. What if the press got your picture? The president saw you?" he lectured, but before he could really get going, she pulled him close to her on the stairs, and into a kiss.

 **17\. Step Up:**

Strong arms held Laura tightly, to the point of breathlessness and pain— her breasts were crushed against his hard chest as they kissed. And kissed... She'd noticed his large, sharp-knuckled hands while he drove, and now they were gripping her with that loose strength like he'd held the steering wheel.

She had to get him back to her room, despite her bandage slipping and the ache in her breast. She broke away from his seeking mouth—

"When will I start?" he asked huskily.

Fantastic, a man who wanted direction. Grabbing his hand, she fumbled for her door key. "Right now."

"You want to be driven somewhere?"

"What?" She blinked at him foggily.

He tugged his hand loose. "You want me to be your private driver."

Exasperated, she sighed dramatically. "That was a story."

"Okay." He still wasn't joining her on the steps.

"I think you know what I want." She meant to sound seductive, but her voice wavered.

Now he did step up to face her and cupped her cheek. "Yeah, I do," he said softly.

She covered his mouth with her hand before he could say but She understood this wasn't a hayfield under shimmering stars. Press loitered in the halls, Richard would be calling, wanting her to come to his room.

"Will you drive me home?" she whispered.

He nodded, his blue eyes bright over her shaking fingers.

"Okay." She lowered her hand. "I've got one more day at the conference."

Suddenly contrite, she looked him over. "You don't have any clothes— where have you been staying?"

"I bought a couple pairs of shorts," he said, full of humor.

Boxers or briefs, she wondered, stepping closer, her own gaze sparkling.

He shook his head. "I'll be waiting in the morning."

"Mars Day," she remembered. "It'll be Mars Day."

 **18\. All Downhill from Here:**

Bill held the cab's back door for Laura.

"I'd like to sit in the front," she said breezily, opening the door herself. Grumbling, he went to put her bags in the trunk.

As Bill drove from under the resort's large portico, Richard Adar came down the steps, chatting with his staff. But his head snapped around to watch Laura leaving in a dusty Caprica City Cab, sitting beside the driver.

Bill motioned to two steaming cups in the cupholders. "One for you."

Laura took a drink. "How'd you know I was a tea drinker?"

"Saw at the Tyrols."

"Observant man."

He shrugged and sipped his coffee.

"We could have met months ago," she noted.

"I don't think you would have liked me." He peaked at her from under his cap's brim.

"You wouldn't have liked me!" she protested. "I was coming to take your ship away!"

His gaze dropped to wander over her crossed legs, revealed by her bunched-up skirt. "I don't know about that."

Turning, she faced him, forcing his eyes back up. "You would have been a perfect gentleman," she said, not sounding very happy about it.

He harrumphed in the back of his throat but didn't argue with her.

Laura mused, "The Fates are funny... Doctor Gaius Baltar was to be the keynote speaker at this conference, but died suddenly just before I was to visit the Galactica—"

The cab's weaving was slight, but she'd become accustomed to Bill's sure driving and it was noticeable to her.

"What's wrong?"

"Squirrel."

"I didn't see it."

Bill remained silent. Realizing she'd get nothing from him, Laura changed the subject. The miles went by and she heard about his sons, his pilots, his commands— all in the past.

She challenged him again: "You're going to drive a cab forever, Bill?"

 **19\. Blinded by the Setting Sun:**

"Not good enough for you?" grumbled Bill.

Laura wasn't going to back down. "Doesn't matter to me, but is driving a cab good enough for you?"

"It suits my needs," he said stubbornly.

Impatient, she flopped back in the seat. "Then again, you may lose your job— Spending four days on one fare."

"I'll deal with that myself."

Obstinate man... "Convenient place to hide, this cab," she noted. "Keep moving, so no one can pin you down."

"No one wants me these days." He focused ahead.

"I still don't understand why the Colonial Fleet retired one of its heros—"

"Reached minimum retirement age," he replied, resistant as a brick wall.

"Bullshit. Then why aren't you teaching at the War College?"

He exited the freeway, entering Caprica City. "Why are we talking about me, and my life? What about you, Laura Roslin? Where have you been? Where are you going?"

This was the moment when she was to confess all. Her losses, her indiscretions, her moral compass bent and broken, and most of all, the incision on her left breast. But she didn't want his pity— Already, she could see his great capacity for caring. When she came to him, she wanted to be whole, possessing that future she accused him of lacking. And she wouldn't know if she had a future until her post-surgery appointment tomorrow.

He turned down her block.

"You can just drop me out front," she said distantly. "The doorman will take up my bags."

He stopped before her building. "Laura—"

She stepped out. "Yes?" she said in her most professional voice.

He retrieved her bags and put them on the sidewalk. His clear blue eyes shone in the deep orange light of the setting sun. "You still have my card. Call me for a ride anytime."

 **20\. The Last Ride:**

Laura walked out the clinic, her mind still reeling. She looked around blankly for a cab.

A car pulled up in front of her. She wasn't the least bit surprised when Bill peered from the window. "Ride, ma'am?"

"I should take another cab," she said weakly.

He grinned. "Come on. Your Fates brought me here—" He leaned out to look at the building's sign and his smile vanished. Oncology.

He hopped out and opened the cab's front door. "Get in," he said roughly.

She started to protest, but people were staring. She sank to the seat.

As he drove off, she expected him to rail at her, or become a blubbering mess. He remained silent for the short drive to her apartment and she became nervous.

"Bill—"

"Yeah?"

"I... I glad you drove by."

"I am too."

He parked in a short-term parking spot and she fumbled for money. Snatching her purse away, he came around and nearly dragged her from the cab. The doorman held the door but asked, "Do you require assistance, Ms. Roslin?"

"No, Jenkins, everything's fine."

She unlocked her door, expecting Bill to pull her through. Instead, he took her face in his hands and kissed her in the dim hall, desperate, draining kisses... She lost balance.

"Would you like to come in?" she gasped.

Somehow they arrived in her bedroom. She didn't know how he found it— The curtains needed to be closed; the room was too bright. But he was removing her jacket, shedding his and taking off his shoes, all while still kissing her.

Then his fingers were at her blouse's buttons.

"Bill, I—"

He immediately stopped and she was bereft.

Gods damn her fears... She yanked his sweater off and gripped his bared muscular arms. His grin flooded the already sunny room.

 **21\. The Final Interview:**

Naked but for her bra, Laura stared up at her bedroom ceiling, watching the sunbeams dance. Fingers buried in thick hair, she guided Bill's talented lips everywhere but her breasts.

"Laura—" His fingers replaced his mouth and she arched off the thick duvet.

"Bill!" she gasped.

"Am I hurting you?" He immediately stopped and she yanked his head up to glare at him.

"That's not where my incisions are—" She suddenly giggled, nervousness and arousal battling somewhere low in her stomach.

"May I—" His fingers played at her bra strap.

She reached behind her back for the clasp, wincing at movement. He took over, unsnapping it. At the same moment, he slid into her body with one smooth thrust, causing her to gasp painfully and moan with satisfaction in one breath.

His big hands caught and supported her tender breasts. His thumb swept across the fresh scar from her removed drain, gently caressing it.

"It doesn't hurt," she babbled. "Nothing hurts—"

Clawing at his shoulders, she gulped back the tears she was sure would scare him. Not for the pain— it was present, pulsing with their bodies' clashing, but for her awakening emotions, so much more frightening than any tumor. And she really didn't have time to explain all that to him, not when she saw his bared teeth, felt his lower back clench, and needed to stop thinking... Just fly, fly away...

With a heaving crash, Bill landed beside her.

"It's been a long time," he gasped.

She giggled. "Me too." It had been a very long time since she'd felt this way.

Nestling close, she whispered against his shoulder: "I'm going to live."

At his sweet smile, her tears finally came. "Guess I found my new job," he rumbled, pulling her tight to him. "Making love to you."

~end


End file.
